


Dear Princess

by YaminoTenshi202



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Ambiguous ending ;-;, Cinderella Elements, King Sadaro, M/M, Prince Kabbe, Queen Kakarotto, Universe 6 - Divergence, Vegeta-senpai, Yandere Tendencies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-23 06:28:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8317360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YaminoTenshi202/pseuds/YaminoTenshi202
Summary: (for uchiyo-oujo on tumblr)Impossible, for a plain country bumpkin and a prince to join in marriage. Gokû smiled sadly at the thought, but he looked down at the gown that Whis had made for him."It's possible..."





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this exists in the timeline of Super; maybe after the defeat of Gokû Black?
> 
> There is quite a bit of lore from Uchiyo-Oujo's comics and their stories (I love them so)
> 
> The dress is something I drew after watching Rodgers and Hammerstein's Cinderella starring Brandi. Calling her a bumpkin struck a cord through my KakaVege heart.

_Impossible, for a plain yellow pumpkin to become a golden carriage._  
_Impossible, for a plain country bumpkin and a prince to join in_  
_marriage,_  
_And four white mice will never be four white hosrses!_  
_Such fol-der-ol and fid-dle-dy dee of course, is--- Impossible!_  
_But the world is full of zanies and fools_  
_Who don't believe in sensible rules_  
_And won't believe what sensible people say._

 _And because these daft and dewey-eyed dopes keep building up impossible_  
_hopes,_  
_Impossible things are happening every day._

Rodgers And Hammerstein - Impossible -  _Cinderella_

* * *

Out in the the fields that existed sparce in Mount Paozu, there was a glow of light and a cry of delight.

"It's possible!"

* * *

"Vegeta, you look so handsome!" Bulma finished fixing her husband's lapel, placing a small rose in the designated hole. She looked up to Vegeta whose expression was one of patience. "It's not that bad!"

"You don't have to wear  _this_."

His wife had decided to throw a party, putting on a dress that was so puffy that he wondered where her legs had gone to. His own attire consisted of strange pants, a coat that went down past his waist, and the flower that she placed in the lapel. Many men and women were to come, dressed like those faerie tale characters in the books that Bulma had tried to read to Trunks when he was an infant. The boy had the occasional interest in sword-fighting but that was the only thing that held.

What held with Vegeta was the idea of a princess, beautiful, at times helpless, and always kind. He remembered stories largely forgotten that his Queen-Mother would tell him; something about a princess coming to steal her prince away.

He looked to Bulma as she flitted about their room, putting a few more decorations in her hair and fixing the bodice of her dress. He imagined her with her eyes filled with hunger and ire; some days, she acted like the princess that he was told of, but she didn't fight, something he had always wanted in a mate. It wasn't that he didn't love her, in his own way; he just found his attention drifting elsewhere.

"The guests are going to be here soon! Let's hurry downstairs, Vegeta!" Bulma's eyes were eager and hungry. He did admire that about her, the fire in her belly that demanded to be fed. "I want to show off my Prince!"

"Now I'm your Prince?" he teased, wondering why she would be calling him that now. It was rare that she ever said such a thing concerning his natural-born title.

"You're dressed up as my Prince Charming, Vegeta, and I'm your Princess." Bulma turned to him, eyes having a mischievous twinkle in them. "Or am I the Beauty and you're the Beast?"

Vegeta smirked at her. "You've not broken me with kindness yet, Bulma... I can call you my Princess, though."

She smiled at him in earnest, jubilation clear on her face as she wrapped her arm around his, leaning against him sweetly.

"Let's head down... I invited our friends though, but it looks like Son-kun won't make it."

"Kakarotto? I can't see him carrying his woman around like a Princess, no matter how much she claims to be one."

Bulma sighed and began to let out all that had occurred; a Princess had met a bumpkin, had found herself enthralled with the idea that this bumpkin surely could not have been so innocent and ignorant as to not know what a marriage entailed; and when that bumpkin became a young man, the Princess came, fangs greedy for the fulfillment of a promise, and the young man was still too innocent and naive to understand that he was now attached to this woman for life, because a promise was law to him. When that man became a father, he still knew not of all the ways of humanity to raise a family, a little son and then a second. That Princess didn't wish for anything else; she wanted a human family, and her husband was not a part of that.

The last that Bulma had checked, Gokû was looking at faerie tales with Goten: "Bulma, there's a good faerie that saved this girl from bein' lonely. She got her Prince."

"And what did Kakarotto say to that?"

"The he could never be his wife's Prince." Bulma smiled. "He said maybe he'd be a Princess instead. Maybe it'd be different then."

"What did he say would be different?"

"I'll never know."

* * *

The music was light but loud. The people playing those delicate instruments; there was nothing like the instruments on the planet where he had been born, nothing like the organic sounds that had reminded him of racing heart, pounding fists, and the freedom of flying in the air. He sighed, looking to the humans around him. They tittered and fluttered about, preening themselves at being in the presence of his wife, the most powerful and intelligent woman on their miserable planet; her family had given them their comforts, science, and their homes, and they made a spectacle of drowning her in praise and compliments like they were worth something to her; they were worth what they wanted them to be, and for his wife, they were the fuel that kept her pride aflame.

Vegeta grabbed a drink from one of the servers, his pride sparking as the man that his wife hired often for such galas looked down, kept himself in check. He drank from the heavier beverage, some form of beer, and let the liquid burn his tongue, cement him to the moment that he existed in; at that moment, he wasn't looking at his wife, but at the person that had come in with the dress, the color of poppies that his wife's father had in their greenhouse. They walked with an air of happiness that had the purity of a child. Their steps were light, like they were floating, dreaming. He had not gotten yet to see their face, but when Vegeta had noticed their dress, heard the tulle rustling underneath, he found himself unable to look away. That hair looked so familiar, yet something kept him from recognizing their frame, the way they walked and their musculature. Their scent, however, was something that he could never forget. It had the scent of flowers and the only person on this planet that truly smelt of home.

'Ka... I must be mistaken.'

He followed the flowing fabric, wondering if he was fooled, but at the same time, his heart fluttered with excitement; he had felt Whis' presence earlier, as his wife had invited the keeper of the God of Destruction to her gala. Did the being come and make this world where Kakarotto could hide from the world when he already hid so much of himself?

He followed that person outside, both hoping and fearing that it would be Kakarotto. Why would he come like that? Was he trying to hide from Vegeta as well? In something that only Vegeta had ever seen, a set of pyjamas like those of a Princess. Alone in the moonlight, he grabbed their base shoulder, shivering at the feeling of skin under his palm and fingertips.

Red eyes - eyes of fire - looked at him, joyous and wanting.

"Vegeta-senpai. You noticed me!"

Kakarotto stood in a gown of gossamer thread and satin, his dress puffed out with tulle. The orange of his dress was a softer, gentle version of what lived on his dougi; it was like his companion, the only other of his kind that didn't even know or fully accept his true side, was made soft and endearing. A delicate crown of rubies and rose quartz sat on his head, the decoration The only thing that deterred Vegeta was that scent. It was not only of orange blossoms, but it was of hunger and eagerness. He had smelt that mixture of scents at another time, but the thoughts made his body grow hot, instincts anticipating something that he was...

He settled on the feeling of dreading, rather than focusing on the feeling stirring in his abdomen, that pleasant feeling.

"Kakarotto, what are you doing? Why are you dressed that way? And why am I the only one who noticed?"

"Whis-san made it so tha' no one buh Vegeta-senpai would see Gokû. 'Specially since Chi-Chi an' Bulma pro'lly would get mad at him." Kakarotto was playing with his gloves, a fabric that shimmered in the moonlight.

"You didn't want to come with your wife?"

"Gokû wanted to come see his Prince."

Vegeta signed, a wave of nausea coming over him and a knot setting in his throat. How long had this gone on, this pretend that Kakarotto was his Princess, that the younger Saiyan could return his affections? And how Kakarotto had been indulged to think that this fascination with Vegeta could lead to fruition of something else; of what, Vegeta didn't know.

"... Kakarotto... You are my Princess, but Bulma is still my wife."

"Vegeta-senpai never married her, and Gokû was dead for seven years. He still loves Chi-Chi. He likes you a lo' more."

"You've had children together, Kakarotto!" Vegeta shuddered at the realization. "Bulma and I have Trunks. We have families that don't deserve to be ruined by foolish decisions!"

"..." Those red eyes, black hair, seemed weighed down by Vegeta's words, heavy so that it would weigh on Vegeta as well. His hands were seized and before Vegeta could properly interject, his fingers were interlocked and his body was against Kakarotto's, their chests pressed hard together. He was met a face that threatened to break under the stress of anticipation.

"But... You're my Prince. You're the only one for me."

Vegeta was frightened. Kakarotto's ki was quivering, energy quaking with the stress. There was another scent that caught Vegeta's nose, one that he could smell on Bulma when she wanted his affection. There was a god in front of him, hair waving lightly in threat of letting that god of war come forward, blue and red flames of energy hinting at their presence.

"Kakarotto... calm down. Listen to how you're talking-"

"You want me mature right, Vegeta-senpai? How mature do you like me?"

Vegeta closed his eyes as he ignored the images that his imagination had toyed with when they had been together in the Room of Space and Time. The dreams that he had pushed away; the guise of only wanting to use the other, his only friend for his own advancement in strength; they were the only time that he never lied to himself about his existing feelings for the only other Saiyan, the Saiyan child that he had promised to care for and to protect when they were together against the enemies and worlds that would threaten the little Saiyan.

"Kakarotto- Stop-"

There was softness on his forehead, and Vegeta felt part of himself crumble away, his eyes burning and wet. His friend, the Princess, had kissed his forehead in the most innocent show of love that he could without permanently ruining their friendship.

'Damn it... Why am I still...'

"Vegeta-senpai..." Kakarotto smelt of citrus flowers, excitement, moonlight, and Saiyan blood. That nose that always found Vegeta was taking in intense sniffs of Vegeta's hairline, that mouth opening slightly and panting against Vegeta's cheeks. Dear Kami, he couldn't move; his body was pressing itself further against Kakarotto, the satin against his fingers. He was getting dizzy; this was a dream right? Kakarotto wasn't really doing any of this; he'd wake up tomorrow with Bulma's softness against him, not this hard chest and strong body holding him like he was something so precious.

"Kaka- What are you doing?"

"I want Vegeta to be mine."

Red eyes, fiery hair, and pink cheeks stared back at him; there had never been more want on Kakarotto's face; maybe when he had reached out to Vegeta as Freeza destroyed the world that they lived on, the world where two orphan Saiyan created families to fill the strange holes that life had left in their spirits.

"I..."

What could he say? What could Vegeta say to make Kakarotto not want him? Did he want Kakarotto at all?

"Vegeta... You're so handsome like this... A Prince." Kakarotto's eyes were those of a predator. If Vegeta tried to leave, Kakarotto would destroy all exits.

"Bulma picked the outfit, didn't she?" Fingers left his hand, Vegeta lurching forward for the loss of touch.

"Stop it."

"But she touched you, Vegeta... My Prince." Kakarotto surprised him by pushing him to the ground. As the daze began to clear, the fog created by scents and fear disappearing, Vegeta found himself staring up at the full moon with Kakarotto crawling over him. Gloved hands cradled his face, needy. For a moment, Vegeta felt the nails of the other Saiyan through the gloves; would Kakarotto claw into his face, tearing and hungry?

He stayed silent, avoiding the younger Saiyan's eyes. He let those fingers feel his cheekbones, his nose, over his eyes (the feeling of anything against his eyelashes made him scrunch his eyes closed, but the scent of citrus grew stronger at that, so his eyes blew open again), and they stopped just at his lips.

"She's... That's not how Cinderella got her Prince, but... Why does this seem right?"

Vegeta looked up to his captor, ice running through his veins but it felt so nice. Kakarotto was taking off his gloves, revealing bracelets that had a scent on them that Vegeta had a hard time discerning. They were made of something old, only fabric but-

"Are those-"

"They're the only thing left," Kakarotto giggled -  _giggled!_ \- and smiled softly. "When Vegeta-senpai broke Gokû's body, his legs and ribs, and this fabric was all I had left from back then. Chi-Chi threw away everything else. Maybe I loved you then, because I could never forget you."

"You..." Vegeta couldn't think; not after those words could he even breathe calmly! "Kept that dougi and made bracelets?"

Kakarotto's face came close, and Vegeta could feel soft breathing against his chin and lips, his own breathing coming a bit faster.

"Didn't you hear what I said?"

What did he- Oh...

_Oh._

"Kakarotto, you can't- Mmph!"

Lips were on his and Vegeta felt that fire in his body and blood in his veins come together to create a steam that burned him from the inside-out. It was a rather chaste kiss, for what it was, but Vegeta felt dizzy and lost all the same. Nothing like the soft kisses from Bulma, something new and exciting, and why had he never done this before?

He opened his mouth, and Kakarotto dug his tongue deep inside. Vegeta felt a strange emotion, like he could know that Kakarotto was planning to make sure that Vegeta would never forget how this kiss felt, how this kiss tasted, and how Kakarotto felt. It was a feeling reminiscent of the Potara earrings, where they had been one and the same.

He closed his eyes and thought of Bulma inside, tending to their guests and carrying something that Vegeta was already valuing besides his wife's unknowing. He reached up to Kakarotto's bare shoulders, digging his fingers into that beautiful, pale flesh that was white in the moonlight, the color of the moon.

Kakarotto pulled away.

"Vegeta..."

"That was..." _Amazing. Intense. Entirely enough to make him run to a cold shower._ "Nice."

"Only nice?"

Vegeta reached up to pull Kakarotto close.

"You _are_ my Princess..."

"Vegeta!" That smile, that beautiful smile, was back.

"My dear Princess..."

Their only witness was moonlight and the flower in Vegeta's lapel.

* * *

 

Omake:

The Queens of the Saiyans in Universe 6, Kabbe mused, were always so strange, but they were some of the strongest in existence.

His Queen-Mother was fierce and excitable. What his King-Father, Sadaro, had said was that she embodied everything that a traditional Princess once was.

"She wants things, and she goes after them."

"And she wanted you, so she chased you, right?" Kabbe stared up at his father, seeing the pride and caring in his eyes. "And she fought you!"

"A third-class of all things..." Sadaro closed his eyes. "She beat me on a technicality, but it was a loss nonetheless... She found me later and professed her intent, her claws wanting to mark me as hers."

"And you let her? Why, father? I know you cared for her then, but why?"

Sadaro smiled. "She didn't just want me; she was going to have me no matter what." He pet his Prince-Son's hair and pulled away so that the boy could sleep before he went to war with Frost's army, something they never thought would happen; the tournament that Kabbe had been in had overthrown the order on their world.

"Sadaro?"

The King looked to the door and saw his mate, his Queen.

"Kakarotto, go to sleep."

Kakarotto smiled at her King, pulling him towards their room. "We're going to fight tomorrow, huh? Can't we have fun before then?"

"With a spar?" The King smirked at the thought; they'd need rest, but if Kakarotto wanted to spar, she'd stay awake.

A fiercely tight grip appeared on his wrist, the same place where she had marked him, threatened his life with the thought of never having her. He chuckled at the feeling.

"Did you have a different idea, then?"

Kakarotto's smile was his greatest treasure, truly, and the idea of laying in bed with her wasn't so off-putting... especially if they weren't going to be sleeping.

* * *

 

Are you the sweet invention of a lover's dream,  
or are you really as wonderful as you seem?

Rodgers And Hammerstein - Do I Love You Because You're Beautiful? -  _Cinderella_

**Author's Note:**

> * California poppies.  
> * (Flor de) Azahar - citrus blossoms, most notably orange blossoms; these are celebrated and known for being used for crowns and bouquets in wedding ceremonies


End file.
